


The Prince and the Knight

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Best Friends, Blood, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Rival Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 10:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Mantaro admired Kevin, but was always too afraid to confess the truth. It would take the help and support of their friends - Warsman, Rinko, and Jacqueline - for them to find love together. Mantaro wouldn't give up.





	The Prince and the Knight

_Blood spilled over the canvas . . ._

_Kevin stumbled back, as callused hands grabbed at the ropes. He panted. A pain ran through his nose and face, while hot blood coursed down his stubble and dripped from his chin, and – as he swallowed back the taste of iron – his mask clung and stuck to his face. The searing and burning sensation in his skin spread, as his eyes focused and unfocused on his opponent. A scent of sweat pervaded the air. Kevin lifted his mask just enough to spit._

_The sides of the ring were littered with their teammates. A few sought to take notes and learn, others loudly cheered for one or the other as they made loyalties clear, and others were disinterested, simply waiting for their turn to take centre-stage. Mantaro hopped from foot to foot, as he raised his fists into a defensive position. A rip through his bodysuit revealed pronounced muscles, exposing a great deal of his abdomen, and a visible cut marred otherwise perfect skin, as he Kevin readjusted his mask and snarled out:_

_“You’re not going to win this one, Mantaro.”_

_Mantaro scoffed. He cricked his head and made a ‘come here’ gesture, while the large lips of his mask pulled into a smirk, and – for a brief second – an intimidating aura exuded from every pore, until a brief glance to his corner-man betrayed his doubt. Kevin laughed and leaned his weight on one foot, as he leaned forward and prepared to charge. Mantaro flinched, before he feigned confidence and braced himself for the oncoming attack, and all around them people shouted and cheered and taunted, as Mantaro barked:_

_“Bring it on, Mask!”_

* * *

Mantaro sat on the bleachers.

He rested his chin on his hands, while he watched the ring with a pout. The empty stands only exaggerated the noises from the canvas, as Kevin darted about and occasionally stopped to receive instructions from Warsman, and – on rare occasions – Warsman would step into the ring to physically manipulate his body according to instructions. A hand on a thigh. A finger against his chin. Mantaro flushed red and narrowed his eyes, as a low huff escaped him.

The two men trained together as wrestler and second. There were times when one or the other remained silent, able to express entire sentiments or sentence with just a look alone, and neither once paid any attention to the stands, where Mantaro remained alone. A heavy breeze swept through the stadium. It muffled the sound of heels clicking along the stands, but did little to hide the grunts and groans as Kevin struggled to maintain control of a complex hold, and Warsman would chide and scoff each time Kevin failed what should have been simple.

“I _knew_ he was gay,” muttered Mantaro.

A figure slid into the seat beside him, with a low sigh escaping plump lips. Mantaro barely glanced to Jacqueline, as she crossed her legs with a great deal of grace, and a manicured hand brushed back locks of red hair from her face. The dress she wore clung perfectly to her figure, exaggerating every curve and yet still providing the illusion of modesty. He did a double-take, but his eyes soon darted back to the ring, where Kevin lay flat on the canvas with his bare chest heaving up and down with every panted breath. Jacqueline giggled.

“He may well be,” said Jacqueline. “You do know that’s his father’s best friend, though, right? I could be wrong, but I never thought there was anything more between Warsman and Kevin than pupil and teacher, but . . . well . . . I never thought I’d see _you_ pouting because the man you love won’t pay you any mind. What happened to the womaniser I used to know?”

“W-What? H-Hey! I’m still totally into women, Jacqui! I’m straight.”

“Yeah, you’re as straight as a circle! You know it’s okay to be bisexual, Manta? You guys have been rivals for so long, but there comes a point when you’re just barely repressing sexual tension, and always obsessing over the other one like this -? It’s telling.”

Mantaro groaned, as he fell forward. He let his head drop between his legs, while he stared at the scuffed wood of the bleachers, and – as a sharp pain invaded his temples – Jacqueline patted firmly at his back with a soft chuckle. Mantaro angled his head to send a glare in her direction, but the only response was a tongue stuck out and an obvious wink. It was hard not to smile, as he forced himself back into a sitting position. He hunched his shoulders, while he cricked his neck, and he stared down at the ring with blue eyes focused sharp. Mantaro asked:

“Is it that obvious?”

A low hum was his only initial response. Jacqueline cocked her head to the side, while the breeze caught at her red hair and gave her the look of a supermodel, and it was foolish to deny his attraction to her, even as his heart longed for someone else . . . someone beyond his reach . . . Mantaro pouted once again. A frustrated groan escaped Jacqueline, before she lightly slapped the back of his head and placed her hands on her hips. He smiled. There was no other friend that would have been so honest with him, as he whined:

“Aw, come on! Do you think he knows?”

“You’re like such a lost puppy,” said Jacqueline. “You follow at his heels, always challenging him to fight like you could actually beat him for real this time, and it’s like you’re begging for his attention! The sad thing is that you fought together so well, too, like the perfect team and able to really have each other’s backs, so there is _some_ trust there.

“Look, I don’t know if he’ll say yes or not, Manta. It might be that he just laughs at you, just the way he laughed at me and tried to throw blood in my face, but – honestly – I think if anyone has a chance then it’s _you_ , because . . . well, it’s you! You’re the guy that can actually get a reaction from him and make him feel, and the only person that has ever come close to challenging him on any level. Why not take a chance? You might be surprised.”

“I guess . . . I guess I just didn’t think about it, that’s all.” Mantaro shrugged. “I’ve always been the goofball and the idiot, so it’s not like I thought he’d take me seriously, but that’s the thing . . . he _does_ take me seriously, even when no one else does. That – That scares me. I don’t want for him to just avoid me, all because I made things awkward between us.”

“So you do like him, then?”

“I guess? I _hate_ so much about him, like his callousness and cruelty, and what he said about Meat still gets my goat, but he’s also . . . I don’t know . . . passionate, wild, intelligent, talented, creative . . . I’ve also rarely had a thrill like that in battle, plus he inspires me to be _better_. I wouldn’t have taken time out to train like that before, but then he came around and I just . . . I _had_ to get better, Jacqui. I had to be better because he made me want to _be_ better.”

A blush ran over his cheeks, as he scratched at the back of his neck. Jacqueline wrapped her arms around his left arm, before she leaned her head against his shoulder, and he breathed deep the scent of her perfume and shampoo, a far cry from the blood and sweat of the ring. It was a pleasant scent, but it wasn’t _Kevin’s_ scent. Mantaro sighed. He rested his head against hers, as they watched the ring from a distance, and Kevin successfully fended off several holds, before he slipped from fatigue and was caught by muscled arms. Mantaro growled:

“So he’s really not into Warsman?”

Kevin stood upright. He rolled his shoulders and head, before he stepped back and lifted his fist high, and Warsman – with a smile – mimicked the gesture, as they bumped fists and opened their hands wide on the retreat. Warsman then slapped a hand on his shoulder, before he spread wide the ropes and helped Kevin to exit the ring. They headed towards the dressing rooms without a look to the stands. Jacqueline sighed and squeezed at his hand.

“Trust me,” said Jacqueline. “You don’t fist-bump your lover.”

A heavy exhale of breath was the only response. Mantaro kept his head low and pursed his lips, while Jacqueline slowly stood and offered her fist in turn, and – unable to keep from smiling – he delivered a fist-bump and laughed, before he stood and whispered a ‘thank you’. The wind picked up speed, while a chill ran through the air, and Ikemen could just about be seen in the distance, as he guided around a group of people from some committee or other. It was clear the world stood still for no one, not even Mantaro. He smiled and promised:

“I’ll make a move tomorrow.”

* * *

It was cold in the corridor. A few _chojin_ warmed up outside their rooms, with the usual grunts and groans as weights were lifted or ropes were skipped, and some doors remained partially or fully open . . . _chojin_ entertaining fans or supporters, others engaging in more intense warm-up routines . . . still, one door remained closed. It wasn’t even just closed: it was locked. Mantaro pouted. He kicked at the floor and heaved a low sigh.

“Ah, Kinniku Mantaro,” called a voice.

Mantaro flinched and tripped forward. He froze centre of the corridor, as he slowly craned his neck to the side, and – with folded arms and narrowed gaze – Warsman stood as an obstacle that blocked his view of all in the opposing direction. Mantaro slowly stood straight, even as his neck ached in an attempt to lock eyes with Warsman. The older man practically radiated intimidation, especially as the smile cracked against his face-plate in an approximation of a human gesture, and Mantaro shuddered and bit hard into his lip, as he shrugged.

“Er, yeah,” said Mantaro. “I was – ah – just – er –”

A black hand rose to signal silence. Mantaro pressed his lips together into a thin line, as he fought back a shiver to his limbs, and he soon lowered his gaze, while he scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck and mumbled incoherent words. A low hum escaped Warsman. A silence fell awkward between them, until something clattered with the sound of metal on metal, and Mantaro looked up to see keys being dangled in front of him.

“Kevin will not allow anyone entry,” said Warsman.

“Er, yeah,” mumbled Mantaro. “It’s why I thought I’d wait for him to leave.”

“He will not leave. There are no rounds scheduled for him today, while Jacqueline and Ikemen have been insistent on publicity shots for a series of upcoming exhibition matches, and I need not tell you how Kevin loathes being primped and preened like a peacock, as if he cares any whit for such attention-seeking antics. He will remain hidden.”

“Okay, so why are you telling me this? I thought you were – like – this sadist guy or something, especially because you’re always telling Kevin ‘you need to be ruthless’ and ‘you need to totally massacre your opponents’ and stuff . . . don’t you hate me, too?”

“You truly do have the intelligence of your father, Mantaro.”

Warsman jiggled the keys once again. Mantaro frowned. Warsman jiggled them again. Mantaro shrugged. A low groan escaped Warsman, as he rolled his eyes and shook his head, and – this time – tossed the keys straight at Mantaro. He caught them awkwardly as they bounced several times and nearly fell from his clumsy grasp, but ultimately held them between his hands with a wide-eyed wonder. Warsman was already walking away by the time Mantaro’s mouth stopped opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“If Kevin asks,” called Warsman, “I shall tell him you stole them.”

The sound of footsteps soon echoed and disappeared, while Mantaro stood alone once again outside the dressing room doors, and – looking down at the keys in hand – a broad smile overcame him, bringing a few lines at the corners of his eyes. He crept closer to the door and pressed his ear to the wood, but there was only silence inside. He frowned. It took all his strength to still how fast his heart raced in his chest, along with ceasing the awkward sweat that broke beneath his armpits and over his back, but a deep breath helped quell the worst.

Mantaro slid the key into the hole. He clicked open the door and slipped inside, before quickly locking the door behind him and leaving the key in place. The dressing room was pitch black, save for a low light in the far corner, and he faintly heard grunts and someone muttering . . . _‘two-thousand-and-one, two-thousand-and-two_ ’ . . . Kevin was bare-chested on a mat, as he preformed sit-ups to perfection. Mantaro swallowed hard.

It was a rather erotic sight; long hair clung to pale skin with sweat, while tight muscles clenched with every practised movement, and those leather trousers – something Kevin was so fond – exaggerated every bulging muscle and curve, so that Mantaro could barely look away and feared his body might betray his attraction. Mantaro darted quickly over to the mat, where he stood behind Kevin. The steel mask blocked sight of his expressions, but he could just about make out closed eyes hidden in the shadows of the open slit. Kevin groaned:

“Warsman, did you bring what I asked?”

Mantaro chuckled, as he scratched at his neck and leaned forward. Kevin fell back to the mat, where he was finally able to look upward, and loud pants escaped him, while beads of sweat ran down his sides. A towel sat just to his side, which he snatched up and ran over his prone form with lazy and fatigued movements. It took a few moments for him to lock eyes with Mantaro, but finally he froze and briefly held his breath with a low hiss. He tossed the towel back to his side. Kevin sat up cross-legged and continued to struggle for breath.

“Oh, it’s _you_ ,” said Kevin. “To what do I owe this honour?”

“I – I just – I wanted to – ah –”

“I’ve seen you around women, Mantaro.” Kevin rolled his shoulders. “You have a surprising amount of confidence for someone trying so hard to get my attention, but then balking at the very moment I look in your direction. Tell me, do you actually plan to act on this crush? It would be nice to get back to a semblance of normality between us sooner than later.”

“You – You noticed I was . . . into you?”

“It’s hard not to notice the Idiot Prince drooling away like an airheaded schoolgirl. I refuse to give you any kind of ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, though, until you can actually formulate enough of a coherent mind to _tell_ me in your own words how you feel. So -? How do you feel?”

A dark blush overtook Mantaro, as Kevin slowly stood on the mat. There was a shine to his pectoral muscles, which still bulged almost obscenely and were hard as rocks, and his long locks of hair fell naturally about his chest and sides, while he placed callused hands against his hips with a crick of his knuckles. Mantaro widened his eyes, before he quickly angled his body away in hopes of hiding more obvious reactions. A low scoff escaped Kevin, as he moved to his dressing table and sat before the mirror, and Mantaro babbled:

“I thought you were gay? Aren’t you dating Warsman?”

Kevin laughed. It was a heavy sound that echoed about the room, enough that Mantaro winced and dragged his feet behind Kevin with a pout, and he rapidly blinked back tears as he jumped from foot to foot with a pursing of his lips. Kevin soon fell silent, as he took a wet wipe and ran it over the worst affected areas from the intense exercise. He tossed the remains aside, before brushing his hair and flexing his muscles in his mirror, and Mantaro avoided his gaze, even as he stole a few glances over his body with vision blurred with tears.

“Am I dating my father’s best friend?” Kevin shook his head. “Warsman initially left me, as he so feared his connection to my father would be enough of a betrayal for me to despise him, and – even against the Demon Seed – my childhood trauma was enough that it proved that of a distraction, even if my relationship with Daddy has been somewhat mended.

“I have forgiven Warsman, but he is merely a friend. He came to me as a favour to my father, but he stayed with me as my friend, and there is no one in this life that I trust more than Warsman, who will forever be my partner and second. Still, I hold no romantic or physical attractions to him. If you worry I’m taken, I am still single. You were right about one thing, however, which is that I have no attraction towards women.”

“So – ah – you – I mean – it’s –” Mantaro swallowed hard. “Okay, so I’m into women, okay? I just . . . I don’t know . . . I thought you were kind of cool and attractive, and I always wondered why you didn’t join the Muscle League sooner, and then you were kind of horrible to people, but you also were always loyal and did what was right, and I also –”

He placed his hands on the back of Kevin’s chair. Mantaro dropped his head forward, so his tuft of brown hair hid his face from the perfectly polished mirror, and he gripped hard at the leather until his knuckles turned a deathly shade of white. Outside, someone called his name. A tannoy asked for Mantaro to return to the ring, although it was drowned out by the beating of his heart and the constant pants from his lips, and he groaned low as Kevin rolled his eyes and slammed his hairbrush onto the dressing table. Kevin scoffed and spat out:

“Mantaro, I am growing tired of you skipping around the bush.”

“H-Hey, I just – I mean –”

“If you have something to say, just say –”

Mantaro kissed his cheek. It was a brief peck against the steel of the mask, so soft that it was barely felt and barely registered, and yet Kevin fell silent . . . Mantaro yelped. He immediately jumped back and raised his hands in surrender, while Kevin continued to stare towards the mirror with no visible expression and eyes wide. Mantaro stumbled back towards the door, even as Kevin slowly raised a hand to his cheek. Mantaro choked:

“I – I – I’ve got to go, Mask!”

He tripped over his feet and raced towards the door. The key remained in the lock, allowing him a quick escape, and he threw himself into the corridor, nearly knocking over Seiuchin in the process, as he spun around and scrambled to close the door behind him. Mantaro dropped back against the wood with a high-pitched whine. He slid down to the ground. The world spun around him, as he rested his arms on his knees and dropped his head forward, and screwed shut his eyes as he forced long and slow deep breaths. A tear fell from his cheek.

* * *

“Kinniku Mantaro,” called a voice.

Mantaro stopped. The street was relatively empty. Rinko and Jacqueline giggled and gossiped just to his side, as they carried dozens of bags from various stores, and Mantaro – with hands shoved deep into his pockets, feet kicking at the ground – was too lost in listening to their latest anecdote to pinpoint the source of the sound . . . _‘Prince’_ . . . Mantaro swallowed. He slowly turned around, where Kevin stood in street clothes alongside Warsman.

A loud yelp escaped Mantaro, as he darted behind Jacqueline. He clung to her skirts, as he ducked down and tried to avoid making direct eye contact with Kevin, but – despite his greatest efforts and racing heart – Kevin marched over to them at great speed. Mantaro tightly shut his eyes, until a low scoff escaped Rinko, and suddenly someone was pulling at his ear and yanking him to his feet . . . _‘ow, ow, ow’_ . . . Rinko rolled her eyes, as she locked arms with Jacqueline and darted across the street to Warsman. Kevin rolled his eyes at Mantaro.

“You truly are a coward, Prince,” said Kevin.

Mantaro crossed his arms, while he unnecessarily fidgeted. He saw their trio of friends talking from afar, each one watching with very little subtlety, and – in a strange way – it eased off some of his tension, enough that his muscles relaxed and a low sigh escaped him. A few seconds passed in awkward silence, before Kevin huffed and stabbed at Mantaro’s forehead with two of his fingers. It was a hard and painful gesture. A small mark formed.

“H-Hey, stop that,” muttered Mantaro.

He swatted away Kevin’s hand. Kevin laughed, before he folded his arms over his pink t-shirt and cocked his head to the side as if to see through a new angle. The breeze caught at his dirty-blond locks and brushed them in a strange pattern over his leather coat, while the scent of his cologne hung heavy in the air between them, and Mantaro furrowed his brow as looked Kevin over, desperate for some sign of a reaction. Kevin towered over him, as a blush ran over Mantaro’s cheeks and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He muttered:

“Will you stop teasing me?”

“Why?” Kevin shrugged. “I want to know how you expect to have a relationship with someone, at least when you run away at your first declaration of love. Did I give you any response? I don’t believe I told you my thoughts on any potential relationship.”

“No, but that was a week ago, so I _kind of_ got the hint.”

“Ooh, you sound bitter for such a brat.”

Kevin scoffed and flicked at his forehead. It stung when it hit the same spot, forcing Mantaro to step away and waft away the invading digits, and Kevin – with a chuckle – raised his hands in mock surrender and shrugged, even as Warsman called out a warning ‘comrade’. The word brought a wince to Kevin, who hunched forward and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, and Mantaro could practically feel the pout from his lips and the huff of breath, as Kevin stood back straight and locked eyes with him. Kevin said in a low voice:

“Well, I finally have an answer for you, Mantaro.”

“Yeah . . . well, let’s get it over with.”

“Hmm? Well, that’s a fair response. I just need you to look over there.”

Mantaro raised an eyebrow. He cocked his head to the side, as he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, but Kevin simply brought his hands together in a gesture of a prayer, before he pointed to something in the distance. Mantaro rolled his eyes and turned . . . _likely a prank, some childish taunt . . ._ there was nothing to be seen. He heard a brief rustle of steel on something organic like hair or leather, before the scent of cologne became heavier and a pair of soft lips pressed against his cheek, where they lingered for a good few seconds.

A high-pitched squeal escaped him, as he spun around with a blush. Kevin had just lowered his mask, which hid his lips and expression from sight, but there was a devilish glint to his eyes, which glistened as he winked and chuckled. Mantaro barely had time to open his mouth for a response, as Kevin turned around and raised a hand in a half-felt ‘see you later’. He was already halfway down the street when Kevin laughed and called back:

“You’re such a dork, Mantaro!”

Rinko and Jacqueline sprinted back to him, while Warsman waited for Kevin. A smile broke over his lips, deepening his blush and emphasising the lines about his eyes, as he rubbed awkwardly at his shoulder and bounced on his feet. He nearly burst into laughter when Kevin stopped at Warsman’s side and looked back . . . glancing Mantaro over . . . giving him a gun gesture like he was aiming to shoot. It was far from romantic, yet Mantaro shouted back:

“What about dinner at your place at eight?”

“Sure,” called Kevin. “Why not?”

A loud cheer erupted through the air, as Mantaro punched at the air. He heard a loud ‘dork’, before Kevin and Warsman vanished out of sight along a neighbouring alley, and Rinko stood before him with a desperate ‘tell me everything’ expression, as Jacqueline linked his arm and squeezed him tight. Mantaro swayed on his feet, while he raised his free hand to his cheek and lightly touched at where the lips met his mask. He hummed a low tune, as he smiled absently to himself, and Jacqueline said through giggles and sighs:

“You finally have your knight in blue shining armour.”

“Yeah, I really do,” confessed Mantaro.


End file.
